


reflecting me

by samodiv



Series: musketeers in university [2]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: ? I think, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Medieval club, Misunderstanding, Trans Athos, Trans Male Character, side fic for "dem sword bois (& non-bois)"
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-17
Updated: 2017-03-17
Packaged: 2018-10-06 16:32:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10339215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samodiv/pseuds/samodiv
Summary: Lucien says a stupid thing. They work it out.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is a side fic that takes place in chapter 3 of "dem bois (& non-bois)", so I'm not sure it can be read as a separate fic?
> 
> (title from The Civil Wars' "Dust to Dust")

“Dude, _not cool,”_ D’Artagnan shoots him a disapproving look. Aramis is shaking his head and Porthos looks about ready to kick him and wow, what the hell. Lucien isn’t certain what exactly he _did_ to warrant such a reaction. Sure, the remark was rather sexist, he has to admit. But he hadn’t aimed it _at_ a woman? “What?” he asks, lost as hell. Treville just pinches his nose, death-glaring him. “Grimaud, if you don’t go apologize to the captain _really fucking nicely_ and get out of my sight, I might answer to this in a very unprofessional manner,” he growls, fucking _growls_ , what the fuck. Lucien sighs and heads outside, hoping at least Athos will explain.

            The dude is fumbling with his lighter, his fingers trembling, his eyes disturbingly puffy. Lucien feels like he’s been kicked in the stomach. Great dating skills, dude, make your crush cry without even meaning to! He rushes forward and cups Athos’ hands with his, helping him light his cig. “Here.” (Feeling the boy flinch, seeing the terrified look in his eyes—this is going to haunt Lucien till the end of his days.) “Look, I didn’t mean to offend-” “Oh, spare me,” Athos spits out and takes a step back, leaning against the wall. He isn’t looking at Lucien. “Seriously. You know me, I don’t think before I speak,” Lucien tries to joke, but it comes out clumsy and dry. Athos doesn’t know him, not really—Lucien has been making sure to conceal his character since day one, acting like a jerk any time they interacted because this is how his brain responds to danger and Athos has frankly threatening facial features. He takes his crumpled pack of Boro out of his back pocket and lights a cigarette, inhaling sharper than he means to. Fuck. Athos is staring down at his shoes, breathing quietly yet visibly way too fast. Lucien wants to wrap his arms around the guy’s small frame and not let go; or, hold his hand at least, but that’s horribly unrealistic. “I’m overreacting, right?” Athos whispers at some point. Lucien looks up at him and shakes his head no. “No, dude, what I said was pretty sexist, it’s on me.”

            The captain meets his gaze, his face flustered. “Wasn’t the sexism that struck me,” he half-smiles, rising an eyebrow. Lucien has absolutely no idea what’s going on. (“Yeah, apparently _girls_ shoot better at me,” he scoffed earlier, still utterly crushed by Constance’s display at the beginning of training. Athos had been instructing him for the past few minutes, but he’d not progressed much.) “In my defense, I didn’t _mean_ it to be sexist, and it shouldn’t be shocking Constance is a better shot than me since I just started like, today, like I have no idea why I s-” Athos is _giggling_ , so Lucien forces himself to stop babbling. Athos is now full-on _laughing_ , and when was the last time, historically, that Athos laughed? The sound is as beautiful as the sight; Lucien doesn’t know what to do but stare. “I _am_ overreacting,” Athos states, grinning. Lucien is probably helplessly smiling as well, he’s pretty much lost control over his muscles. “Sorry, the guys probably jumped on you, didn’t they?” He even sounds concerned now, which is the icing of the confusion cake. “I think Treville was about to punch me,” Lucien shrugs. It doesn’t feel like shrugging is the most appropriate reaction, but nothing does, really, so. “Um, do you- would you mind explaining what that was about? Or, I mean if you don’t want to…” “Just a sec,” Athos pulls out his phone and starts typing something, his brows furrowed in concentration.

            When (at last) he looks up at Lucien, he seems a tad nervous. “So. I’m trans? As in, a trans man. And uh, I don’t take very well being called a girl, so that’s that.” He says it all nonchalantly, as if it’s been rehearsed. Jesus, it probably has. Lucien doesn’t want to think about how many times the guy has had to say these lines. He also doesn’t know how to begin apologizing—he hadn’t known, but the remark was still disgusting, but also he hadn’t _meant_ to aim it at Athos, but also he isn’t the brightest and his focus had been on Athos’ triceps at the time, but holy shit. None of it seems worth saying, really, it isn’t going to erase what Lucien has gone and said. “Wow, I’m–” and he starts rambling, because of course he does, “I very much did not mean to imply _anything_ about you being anything but male, it, I think like, I’ve been raised by a sexist and the “girls are genetically worse at physical stuff” sometimes reappears and I wasn’t focused on speech but I _really_ didn’t mean–” “I know, it’s okay, don’t worry that much,” Athos smirks, he _smirks_ , at _Lucien_ , this is simultaneously the best and the worst day in his life. “Dude, I do worry. Misgendering is not cool.” And then, a fragile wave of bravery awakens in Lucien. Itsnowornevernowornever. “Can I-do you want a drink? Like, after club.” The captain’s eyes gleam in a curious way. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

            Lucien puts off his cigarette and they go back inside the building. Their shoulders almost brush.


End file.
